Promise between brothers
by wolf of infinity
Summary: When Gilbert sacraficed himself to let his brother escape, that was the beginning of hell, and the one thing that kept him alive was the tiny hope that his brother was alive... Set during the time of a split Germany, AU. Prussia&Germany brotherhood.


_Ok, this was the product of sitting up to the middle of the night/early morning, writing, while listening to tragic music... It's centred around Gilbert (Prussia) and Ludwig (Germany), and their brother-relationship, and it's a sad attempt to make it at least somewhat historically correct._

_It's NOT yaoi, and it's AU, set in Germany during the final years of the Berlin War. I hope it's not completely incorrect, I did my best to make it seem realistic... ^^ Also, in this story, a lot is left to your imagination, I hope that doesn't come around as too frustrating~ :3_

_Anyway, I do hope you'll enjoy the angst and the brotherly love~_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia – Axis Powers, or any of its characters._

oOo

The air was heavy with thick, unforgiving smoke, and the sound of screams, alarms and roaring flames. Everything was in a state of chaos, panic devouring the hearts of all living beings as they tried desperately to save themselves and their loved ones. Many had already lost their lives, either due to fire, gunshots or the trampling feet of people, rushing around in blind fear.

A pair of deep red eyes scanned the crowd with a calculating and grave expression that didn't fit their owner. The child could hardly be older than thirteen, and with a small, thin frame for his age, he stood in constant risk of being run over. This, however, was not what he was scared of. At the moment, all he could think of was the smaller figure he was clutching in his arms.

"Hold on, Ludwig... we're almost safe now!" he murmured soothingly, voice hoarse with smoke inhalation, but strong and unwavering. His little brother, no more than eight years old, buried his face in his brother's sweater, clutching to the elder trustingly.

"B-Bruder..."

"Ja, Ludwig?"

"It... hurts to breathe..."

The red-eyed boy's frown deepened as he scanned the surrounding area for a way to escape, subconsciously holding his brother tighter as he spotted an opening.

"We'll be safe soon. Trust me, West." The familiar nickname always did seem to have a soothing effect on the younger of the two.

"I trust you..."

At hearing that, the boy got up from his hiding place, and took off into a sprint, darting behind falling debris and dead bodies in a desperate attempt to avoid drawing the attention of the soldiers roaming the streets, aiming to kill.

His eyes were set firmly on the edge of town, as it approached slowly but steadily. Almost there now... Then all that separated them from the sheltering, deep forests beyond was the now naked meadow... He quickened his pace, and they were out on the meadow. He knew he had no time to lose – an open field like this would be the death of them both if they were spotted.

Suddenly, he was forced to a stop, staring up at a tall, broad-shouldered soldier blocking their way just outside the city edge. He glared, holding his brother protectively as he gave the man his most intimidating glare. The effect was no doubt broken by his rattling teeth and the fear in his expression.

He could feel Ludwig's rapid heartbeats racing in tune with his own. The soldier stared back at him, before a sickening grin twisted his features, and the boy gasped as Ludwig was torn out of his arms with a startled yelp.

"No! Give him back! West!" Gilbert growled, kicking the soldier's feet, to no avail. Ludwig didn't even budge from his grip. The small boy was screaming for his brother now, blue eyes wide with terror.

"Bruder! Gilbert! BRUDER, help me!"

"Shut up, kid. Now what to do about you..." The soldier's voice was heavily coated by a Russian accent, an accent Gilbert had come to dread and despise. "Kill you? Or perhaps you'll make a good soldier..."

"No, please... let him go! I'll do anything, just let my brother go...!" Gilbert had never been one for begging, but desperate times calls for desperate measures, as the saying went.

The soldier looked down at him, eyes narrowed in amusement.

"Anything, huh? Well, this kid is a bit young to be of much use, yet... Perhaps I should just put him out of his misery right here and now?"

"NO!" Gilbert felt tears burning in his eyes, but refused to let them fall as he heard Ludwig give a frightened sob.

The soldier gave a grin, and suddenly Ludwig was dropped to the ground, scrambling over to Gilbert. The elder immediately moved in front of him as the man in front of them aimed his gun again.

"Please... take me and let my brother go... I'm begging you...!"

"You're dead serious, aren't you..." the soldier shook his head. "Brave little fellow. I can think of situations where such bravery would be needed. Very well, I'll let the kid go. Mind you, he won't survive long in these conditions. Would be kinder to kill him now."

Gilbert didn't hesitate for a second longer. Leaning in, he kissed his brother's forehead, looking him in the eyes.

"Go west, Ludwig... and survive! We'll meet again, some day, I promise!" He didn't get to say any more than that, as the soldier pulled him up and away, harshly.

"B-bruder...!"

"Go, Ludwig! GO!"

The youngest gave a sob, but got to his feet and ran for the forest without looking back. Gilbert found himself praying desperately that his brother would make it, as the soldier pulled him along, back towards the death and chaos he had so nearly escaped...

oOo

Gilbert opened his eyes, giving a sigh as reality once again caught up to him, forcing away the memories that plagued him at night. Time to face yet another day, and whatever evil was awaiting him.

To think that eight years had passed already, and the memory of that day was still as vivid as ever. To this day, he still found himself wondering whether Ludwig had survived or not... whether he'd managed to escape to the west or not. Years in this hell had beaten most hope out of him, however, and though he couldn't say he'd come to terms with the thought of his brother being dead, he knew that it was most likely a sad fact.

What was the chance of a traumatized eight-year-old getting all the way from their small town to the safety at the other side of the wall? Pretty close to non-existent. He might not even have made it out of the woods.

Gilbert shook away these depressing thoughts, as he got dressed and headed out to report at _his_ office.

When the soldier had talked about needing his "bravery", Gilbert had thought that perhaps he would be trained as a soldier or something along those lines. When he'd been appointed to be the fucking _servant_ of the demon he would come to hate more than anything, he thought himself lucky. That soon faded to horror as he realized just what the soldier had meant with situations that would call for bravery.

One had to be brave to survive even a day in that man's presence, not to mention years.

For eight years, he'd been used for various tasks. Killing and cleaning. Torture and cooking. And not to mention being a helpless toy during his "master's" violent moods.

It was beginning to wear him out, and lately he found that even getting up in the morning was a struggle. The only thing that kept him moving was the tiny flame of hope that Ludwig might be alive somewhere. He'd promised that they would meet again... If there was even the smallest chance that his brother was alive, he would fucking stand up when hit, and breathe even if all air was knocked out of him.

But that flame was starting to fade.

Raising his hand, he knocked on the door, as usual, moving inside after being granted permission to enter. Even now, after eight years, he shivered when those cold, violet eyes met his own red ones.

"Ah, good morning, Gilbert," came the cheerful, sugary sweet voice, and just by that greeting, Gilbert knew from experience what type of pain this particular day would bring...

oOo

Everything was in a state of uproar and chaos, as October gave way for the chilly days of November. Gilbert, being under the command of one of the main leaders of the Russian occupants, had heard the rumours.

Not that he was in a position to do much about it at the moment, chained as he was to a cold cellar, pretty much unable to move after his "master's" latest mood swing. The chaotic atmosphere and rebellion meant that _he_ was in a bad mood. And whenever _he_ was in a bad mood, Gilbert was usually the one he lashed out on.

The door opened, and Gilbert tensed as that man appeared again, crouching down in front of him. There was a war raging in those violet eyes, as the insane man battled his inner demons. This time, it seemed he won, and for a moment, Gilbert was looking at a small child, vulnerable and scared.

"I am so tired of this..." his voice was small, and his eyes were sad and strangely hollow where he sat – a rather large and intimidating man reduced to a fragile child. Gilbert had seen it before, but it never failed to scare the living daylights out of him. It only served to remind him just how unpredictable and mentally disturbed Ivan Braginski really was.

"Why won't they just be happy the way things are?" Gilbert gasped as Ivan lashed out, fist connecting harshly with the side of his head, setting of fireworks behind his eyes. The child was gone, replaced by a frightening mass of uncontrolled, raw strength.

"People are leaving... but you won't leave me. I won't allow it!" he gripped Gilbert by the shoulders now, and Gilbert felt the familiar numb apathy taking over as he prepared for the torture that would come.

oOo

This was it. This was his chance. The chance he'd waited for, for eight long years of hell. Fighting away the weariness of his weakened body, he aimed the gun at the kneeling Russian, eyes wide as his hands trembled.

"Gilbert..." Ivan's eyes were already dead, empty, as he looked up at the younger man. "You don't belong out there anymore. You are mine, you can't just leave!"

"I'm not yours, you bastard! I don't belong to anyone!"

"You know that's not true..." Ivan was smirking now, and Gilbert could feel that blasted fear of the other man catching in his throat.

"SHUT UP!"

Ivan let out a small chuckle, but it ended abruptly when Gilbert pulled the trigger, sending a bullet flying and hitting its target. The Russian coughed, blood seeping through his clothes.

"You'll always belong to me...!" he said again, voice intense and bone-chilling.

"YOU'RE WRONG! SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" two new bullets, blood staining the floor.

"Always... mine..."

Gilbert screamed, and shot until the gun had no more bullets, not even sure if he hit the other as his eyes were blinded by rage and tears.

This was his chance to get away... yet he felt like he was killing the only safe hold he'd had in his life. For eight years, this man and his sick ways was all he'd known... Ivan's mental torture had done its job, and as the gun fell from his hands, he couldn't help but fear that the words were true.

Did he really not belong out there anymore...? Freedom... was it not something he deserved?

A dull thud sounded throughout the room as Ivan finally fell, tears staining his cheeks as he gave a last, shuddering breath.

Gilbert backed away, and, unable to stay in the room for a second longer, he turned and ran for his life... for his freedom...

oOo

It was over. Though he could hardly recall how, he had gotten past the wall, and no one alive had the power or the wish to bring him back. He was free...

Stumbling backwards, his back hit the wall of a random building, and he sunk to the ground, burying his face in his hands as his body shook, barely feeling the warm sunlight on his white and bruised skin, or the clean air that made its way down his airways whenever he drew a gasping breath.

People were crying, hugging, cheering... but he wasn't sure just what to feel. All he'd known these last years were pain, fear and hopelessness. He wasn't sure he remembered how to feel happy anymore. Besides... what did he have to live for? A brother that could impossibly be alive? A life of freedom that was so unfamiliar and foreign that it frightened him?

"I'm sure he'll be here, Ludwig!" the voice seemed so distant, but the name seemed to cut through Gilbert's chaotic thoughts and emotions. The next moment, he cursed at himself. Who was he kidding? Ludwig was a common German name...

"He promised you, didn't he?" Again, why did that hopeful voice with that foreign, melodic accent catch his attention like that?

"Feliciano, promises means nothing if you're dead..." came a new voice, deep and serious, yet with a somehow familiar feel to it. Gilbert raised his head slightly, not about to get his hopes up just because he was delusional enough to misunderstand random things.

Two figures stood a bit away, one of them a rather lithe-built Italian, and the other a tall, muscular young man, or boy – Gilbert couldn't quite tell from this distance...

"D-don't say that! He might-"

"Stop! Please, stop... I... I want to believe it too, but in the end... it'll just hurt more when I realize it was just a childish hope..." the tall blonde clenched his fists, and Gilbert somehow found his attention drawn to him. Gathering his strength, he stood, taking a few steps forward, before stopping.

What was he doing? It was just some random stranger awaiting someone he cared for. It wasn't like he was the only blonde German, far from it.

"Ludwig..." the Italian looked sad, and as he reached out and touched the other's arm gently, the taller of the two turned somewhat, allowing Gilbert to get a look at his face.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of those eyes... Too serious to match his still young age, and the exact same shade of blue as the sky on a cold winter day...

"W..."

"Look, this was all useless... let's go."

He turned away again, and started to walk away. Gilbert tried to gather his voice, but it seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat. No... _No..._! He stumbled forward, body feeling as heavy as lead. This was him! He couldn't have been more sure... but now he was heading away, and Gilbert was too weak to catch up.

_No_! Forcing his voice to cooperate, he took a few more shaky steps.

"W... West..." that one word hardly came out as more than a whisper, but the young German stopped, making the one named Feliciano blink in question. And then, he slowly turned around, and those familiar blue eyes met with Gilbert's.

For a moment, neither of them moved, but then the bag in Ludwig's hand fell limply to the ground as his eyes widened, and his lips parted, mouthing the word Gilbert had longed to hear ever since they'd been torn apart.

"Bruder..."

Gilbert felt tears running freely down his cheeks, as his features slipped into a grin.

The next thing he knew, he'd been embraced by his now bigger little brother and he was clutching back almost frantically, laughing and crying at the same time. Despite the obvious change of size, it felt just like it had back when he'd held his little brother protectively in his arms. Ludwig even had the same familiar scent.

"Bruder... _Bruder..._" that word was uttered over and over, in between sobs, and Gilbert could only respond by smiling like an idiot against his brother's shoulder.

At that moment, Ivan's words seemed to lose all their effect, and even the long years of hell seemed worth-while, just because they had lead up to this moment...

All fear and pain dissolved into nothing, because it was finally over, and in the end, it seemed he _did_ remember how it was to feel truly, undeniably happy.

oOo

_Yay for happy endings~ I hope you enjoyed it! If you could give me a review, telling me what you thought of it, that would mean a lot! Thanks for reading!_


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